


Ducklings in a Row

by Jwink85



Series: Having Your Cake and Eating it Too [2]
Category: South Park
Genre: Angst, Bottom Tweek Tweak, Cock Slut, Daddy Kink, Drunk Sex, Fluff, M/M, Nasty, Smut, Threesome - M/M/M, Top Craig Tucker, Tweeks a total slut yeah boy, Valentine's Day Fluff, Wine, craig you better get it, possessive Tweek, repentant thirsty craig, stans along for the ride, thirsty ass tweek, tweek loves his man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 09:40:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17785022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jwink85/pseuds/Jwink85
Summary: Craig's indiscretions come to light, forcing Tweek to rethink his approach to their relationship. Maybe being nasty for your man isn't such a bad thing?





	Ducklings in a Row

**Author's Note:**

> SMUT ALERT. Like, SO MUCH SMUT. Nasty stuff, too. This is the good shit, you guys. (At least I think it is xD)
> 
> I didn't originally plan on writing a story from Tweek's POV but I think he's just so cute and he deserves to get some play. xD Get it, sunshine. Besides, it's kind of like a Valentine's Day fic, haha. 
> 
> Anyway, ENJOY! <3
> 
> PS: Seriously, if you don't like smut don't read this. It's short on plot but heavy on the action. Just sayin'.

**It's not even my birthday**  
**But he wanna lick the icing off**  
**I know you want it in the worst way**  
**Can't wait to blow my candles out**  
**He want that cake, cake, cake**  
**Ooh baby I like it, it's so excited**  
**Don't try to hide it**  
**I'mma make you my bitch**  
  
\- Birthday Cake, Rihanna

* * *

"Happy Valentine's Day, baby."

Craig beamed at the look of surprise on Tweek's face as he slid the fishbowl across the cherry wood table; the curvature of the glass accentuated by the shifting candlelight. He'd clearly taken care to make the dining room look as festive as possible: glowing candelabras, a bouquet of red roses in a crystal vase, a huge teddy bear holding a heart, a gigantic velvet box of expensive chocolates. It would seem he wanted to go all out for his husband on the most romantic day of the year, and Tweek had to admit he'd been successful.

Tweek, for his part, was filled with delight as he walked into the room, his fluffy, blonde hair windswept from being outside for most of the afternoon. After he'd volunteered at the hospital (delivering flowers to patients' rooms and spending time with the children in the pediatric ward for the most part) and met Kyle for an impromptu lunch, he'd opted to spend some time alone in the park, writing in his journal and just watching the clouds drift by. He often did that when Craig was away for long stretches of time, having found that it soothed his loneliness somewhat; helped him put his thoughts and anxieties in order. He'd especially needed his solitude after having a very interesting chat with his redheaded lunch date.

When he and Craig had initially gotten together, years and years ago now, he never could've anticipated spending so much time apart from the person he loved so much. He'd been excited when Craig told him he wanted to be an airline captain, had supported him throughout the entire endeavor, but he hadn't foreseen just how often Craig would be away; jet-setting to exotic and distant locales: Paris, Rome, China. He'd come home from his travels appearing so dashing and handsome in his navy blue uniform, his dark captain's hat with the golden wings on the front perched on his head, and Tweek would become breathless as he fell into his arms.

Tweek had always been of a retiring nature, withdrawn and always on edge, so they'd both agreed that it would be healthier for him not to work. Craig had encouraged him to stay home and take care of things, see to the day-to-day affairs; had even indulgently started referring to him as his "little hausfrau," and for awhile that had been enough for Tweek. He loved doing chores and putting things in order for his husband, making sure his uniforms were cleaned and pressed. He adored making elaborate dinners for Craig when he'd finally come back home, pouring him glasses of wine and becoming intoxicated on his kisses. He especially liked seeing his husband when the uniform finally came off, and then they'd truly get lost in one another in their king sized bed; gentle sighs drifting into the darkness as they reconnected in earnest.

But somewhere along the way the bloom had fallen off the rose, and Tweek wasn't sure how to fix the situation. He knew that he wanted to, and while his conversation with Kyle earlier in the day should've filled him with rage, it had just made him feel more helpless. If anything, he almost felt like he needed to apologize for something, though he couldn't say what. Maybe for being weak? Childish? Is that how his husband saw him? Is that why his attentions had strayed elsewhere?

Coming forward, Tweek pulled out a chair and sat, his eyes never leaving the pretty fish as it floated in the clear glass bowl. It was the color of a dying sunset, bright orange-red and almost glowing, its translucent fins swirling and opening as it drifted through the water. He smiled, loving it already; loving it because Craig had seen fit to give it to him.

"It's beautiful," he murmured, his voice sounding a bit croaky from not speaking for a number of hours. He cleared his throat before looking up at his husband, who was so tall and good looking in a dark, serious way. Craig's eyes had been described as cold or remote in the past, but Tweek always viewed them in a different light; stern, perhaps, but so honest. Craig didn't operate on pretenses or facades, he was always unapologetically himself; that's why this new knowledge hurt so much. Craig had never given Tweek a reason not to trust him.

"I just worry about you being lonely, so I wanted to get you something you could take care of," Craig said, coming around the table and placing his hands on Tweek's shoulders. Leaning down, he kissed Tweek's flushed cheek, nearly making him tremble when he spoke in his ear. "I love you, duckling."

These words alone were enough to make Tweek begin crying, fat teardrops falling down his face; turning the goldfish into a watercolor disaster. Tweek loved it when Craig called him 'duckling'. He'd started calling him that when they were in high school, during a walk around Stark's Pond after winter was fading away and the world was waking up again. The animals had been unearthing themselves from their slumber and the young ones were being born, and Tweek had been charmed by the ducks gliding across the water; a mama and babies all in a row.

"You know, you look just like them. Have you noticed?" Craig had asked, pointing out the fluffy, yellow ducklings. "Little and cute and delicate."

"You really think so?" Tweek had replied, blushing lightly. He'd taken Craig's hand and squeezed it a little. "I'm not cute like that, Craig; you're just being weird."

"Hush," Craig had smiled, kissing the back of Tweek's neck. "You're my duckling whether you like it or not."

Naturally, they'd received a lot of flack when people around school had heard about Tweek's corny new nickname; its odd saccharine sweetness. Craig had paid them no mind, opting instead to flip them the bird and keep on moving; such was his way. It had just made Tweek love him more.

"Tweek, honey, why are you crying?" Craig was asking him now, pulling Tweek from sweet memories. "I thought all of this would make you happy!"

"It does make me happy! I'm not crying about that!" Tweek shouted, raising his voice to a level that was unusual for him. Craig appeared properly taken aback, just staring at him with wide eyes; candlelight catching in them.

"Then what's wrong, duckling? Tell me, please?"

Still feeling helpless and lost, Tweek rose from his chair, tucking it in much harder than necessary and making the water in the fishbowl shiver; the candlelight shuttering. Faint threads of anger were beginning to unwind in his mind now as well, which honestly surprised him. He usually wasn't one for rage or strong emotion unless it was fear or tenderness for Craig. Backing away, he hugged himself, trying to collect his thoughts before saying something he might regret.

"I-I had lunch with Kyle today," he finally said, staring at the floor. "A-and we had a little talk."

Craig was silent for a moment, seemingly waiting for him to go on. Coming over, he dared to place a finger under Tweek's chin, tipping his head back.

"And?" He asked, studying Tweek's face; once again disarming him by being so fucking beguiling.

Tweek almost felt like he couldn't speak, not when he was face to face with his husband; not when their eyes were meeting and clashing. He hated making waves more than anything, and he absolutely loathed making his husband unhappy, but didn't his happiness matter, too? At least a little bit? Biting his lip, he shut his eyes and plunged ahead, throwing caution to the wind.

"Craig, I know about Stan. I know everything."

Now the silence was so profound that Tweek was sure he heard the goldfish swimming in its bowl, could even hear the fire-tipped candles burning away. The weight of the air, of the moment and tension, pressed down on his skin almost like he was wearing it, and he didn't have the courage to open his eyes. All he could do was wait for Craig to speak, to say anything...to confirm or deny the accusation. Sweat cropped up on his forehead as slight trembles broke through his skin.

Craig took his hand away from Tweek's face before speaking, and his voice was hushed when he finally answered.

"Fucking big mouthed Broflovski, I swear to God. He's always sticking his nose in where it doesn't belong, especially where Stan is concerned."

Having not expected this response, Tweek's eyes popped open and he stared at Craig incredulously.

"Are you for real? Kyle isn't the problem here, Craig; you are. You're fucking cheating on me, and with Stan of all people!"

Craig ran a hand through his hair, mussing its meticulous perfection. He had always been hung up on his own appearance even if he didn't hound Tweek about his. He seemed to like his husband's slightly rumpled, soft simplicity.

"It's not like it means anything, hon. Stan's just a slut."

"So?" Tweek yelled, his hands clenching into tiny fists at his sides. "What kind of excuse is that, and besides, Kyle said...he said..." he choked back a sob, pressing a fist against his mouth to stifle it further. "He told me that Stan said you'd leave me for him. Is that true?"

Now Craig didn't look quite as unruffled, and his face collapsed as pure misery drenched his features. He came over to Tweek and tried to place his hands on his shoulders; Tweek jerked away.

"Don't fucking touch me, Craig! Just tell me the truth; did you say that or not?!"

Craig sighed and hung his head, and in that moment he looked like a man defeated; completely contrary to his typical brusque confidence. He shrugged, only furthering his dejected appearance.

"Yeah, I said that," he said, softly. Suddenly, he snapped his head up, capturing Tweek's eyes and openly pleading with his own. "I didn't mean it, though. I was just feeling...I mean..." he threw his hands up in the air in frustration.

"What do you want me to say, huh?! Sometimes it's nice to just do something completely wrong, okay? When I'm with Stan I don't have to worry about hurting him or making sure he's alright. We just -"

"Fuck. You guys just fuck," Tweek seethed, coming forward and jabbing a finger at Craig's chest; having to reach up considerably high considering how much taller his husband was than him. "And in our bed, our fucking bed, Craig! I hope you at least turn my photo around when you're inside of him!"

"Stop being melodramatic, Tweek," Craig said, his voice becoming dangerously soft. He let out a long breath before covering his face with his hands, speaking his next words from behind his fingers. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? I'm so fucking sorry and ashamed that I can barely stand it. I hate myself right now. Is that what you want to hear, because it's the truth."

"I hate you right now, too," Tweek replied, his voice hitching a little just to say something like that out loud. The worst part was that he didn't hate his husband at all, he never could. He could hate the things he did, but he could never bring himself to hate the person; his love was just too strong. Tweek was more like a puffin than a duckling when it came to love; when he mated, it was for life.

That didn't stop him from being petty and cruel at times, though, which he had every intention of indulging in as he walked away from his husband. Going over to the table, he grabbed one of the glasses of wine Craig had waiting for their little Valentine's celebration. Knocking it back, he couldn't help but grimace a little; Tweek had never been much of a drinker.

"Why don't you call up your whore and spend Valentine's day with him instead? Huh?" He hissed, taking another long drink of wine; wiping drops from his lips with a trembling hand.

"I don't want to be with him, Tweek; I want to be with you," Craig said, taking his hands away and coming over to the table as well. He watched with narrowed eyes as Tweek finished off the glass of wine and poured himself more; nearly filling it to the rim. "Duckling, you know you aren't great with alcohol, why don't you -"

"Shut up, just shut up!" Tweek shouted, resisting the urge to throw the wine right in Craig's handsome, smarmy face. "And don't fucking call me duckling! I'm not your duckling right now! Maybe I never will be again!"

Craig just stared at him, a tiny muscle jumping in his jaw like he wanted to laugh but was holding himself back. This small movement only served to feed Tweek's growing, potent rage.

"Get out! Just go away and leave me alone for awhile! I need to think!" Tweek yelled, pointing towards the door. "I don't want to see your stupid face right now, you fucking cheater! Cheater!"

Craig held up his hands in a placating gesture, clearly trying to appeal to Tweek's better nature.

"Tweek, you need to calm down, okay. Let's just talk this out -"

"No! Go away! I'll come to you if I want to talk!" Tweek knocked back more wine, spilling a little on his green shirt but ignoring it. Who gave a fuck what he looked like now? He could be a GQ model but his husband would probably still go out and fuck slutty, cute Stan Marsh.

"I don't think you should be alone right now, duck -" Craig broke off, catching himself. "Tweek, I mean. You shouldn't be by yourself when you're this upset."

Tweek laughed, but it came out sounding terribly brittle; broken, really. He gestured to the goldfish still swimming in its little bowl.

"I'm not alone, Craig. Remember?"

\-------

Tweek was nearly a bottle deep when he picked up his phone and made a very necessary phone call. It wasn't long, the conversation he had, if anything it was incredibly succinct, but he said everything that needed to be said.

"I don't give a fuck where you are right now," he slurred, his other hand clutched around his almost empty wineglass. "Just get your ass over here so I can," he hiccuped, feeling dazed and hazy. "So I can fucking talk to you. Okay? Okay. Just let yourself in when you get here; the door's unlocked."

Without preamble, he disconnected the call and threw his iPhone on the table; an expensive gift from Craig. Most of the gifts he received from Craig were usually expensive and just so thoughtful. Wasn't he lucky to have such an upstanding, charismatic, successful husband? He snorted, resisting the urge to hurl his glass at the wall so he could watch it shatter into pieces.

Instead, Tweek finished the wine in his glass and stood from the table, noticing in his inebriated state that the candles were burned down halfway. He couldn't be sure how much time had passed since Craig had left him alone, but it had to be an hour at least. It'd been long enough for him to get drunk as fuck, and he was hardly aware of what he doing when he started to undress himself; shedding his shirt and pants and finally his boxer briefs. Leaving them in an untidy heap on the floor, he picked up Craig's captain's hat and placed it on his head before grabbing up the wine bottle. Taking a sip, he began the trek through the darkened corridors of the hushed house.

"If I was a fucking cheater, where would I be?" He asked himself out loud, hardly recognizing his wine-wrecked voice. He liked the way he sounded when he was drunk; he didn't seem nearly as timid or shy. Staggering into the bedroom, his eyes widened a little when he saw Craig sitting on the edge of the bed, his face in his hands; dressed in his dark slacks and powder blue shirt, partially unbuttoned.

"I should've known," he sneered, drawing closer but keeping his distance; his eyes falling on the bed. "Oh, a different bedspread from this morning? Nice, Craig. Really nice."

Craig looked up and Tweek was surprised to see that he'd been crying, streaks of tears falling down his face; his eyes red and watery. This knowledge softened him a little but he brushed it away, attempting to firm his resolve.

"Tweek," he said, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. "How much have you had to drink, baby? I don't want you to get sick."

"Like you care," Tweek laughed, coming a little closer and taking another sip from the bottle. He frowned when he realized all of the wine was gone, setting the bottle aside on the dresser before stumbling a little; nearly catching himself but falling to his hands and knees anyway. Craig shifted like he was going to get up to come help him, but he held up a hand.

"Stay right there," he slurred. "Just stay right there, Craig. Hear me?"

Craig stared at him, his eyes drifting over Tweek's naked body.

"Why aren't you wearing any clothes?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Tweek teased, beginning to crawl over to his husband, the captain's hat shifting a little on his head; pressing his bangs down so they shadowed his eyes.

Craig covered his mouth with his hand, almost like he was trying not to smile. His face remained composed though, his eyes clearing slightly.

"Well, yeah, babe. That's why I asked."

Tweek brushed this off, approaching Craig now and sitting back on his heels, his arms dangling at his sides; full nakedness on display. The only light in the room was a lamp illuminated on the bedside table, throwing its golden glow across Tweek's pale skin. Reaching up, he placed his hands on Craig's knees, gently shifting his legs apart. Craig just watched passively, almost resembling a panther in the dim room: grey eyes and his standard five o'clock shadow darkening his jaws.

"So, Stan Marsh is a raging slut bag, huh?" Tweek asked, his voice becoming husky as he continued to rest his hands on Craig's knees. "Am I right?"

"You don't sound like yourself," Craig replied, his voice deepening as well; becoming less nasally as it dropped. "What's come over you, duckling?"

"Just answer the question," Tweek replied, removing a hand so he could push Craig's captain's hat back a little. "Is Stan a slut? Is that why you like him?" Pulling away, he put his hand back on Craig's knee, pressing slightly. "And I didn't say you could call me that yet, did I?"

Taking a shuddering breath, Craig licked his lips before answering; making no attempt to be subtle about his roving eyes. He glanced down between Tweek's legs, eyes drinking in the quickly hardening flesh he saw. He smirked.

"Stan's a huge fucking slut, Tweek. He's the first person to admit it." He shrugged before reaching out and brushing the back of his hand across Tweek's cheek. "It kind of turns me on when people aren't afraid of liking sex. He likes being fucked, and he doesn't hide it, you know?"

"I like being fucked, too," Tweek said, sliding a hand up Craig's leg where it came to settle on his burgeoning erection. "Doesn't that count?"

"Then why don't you ever tell me that?" Craig asked, gasping a little as Tweek cupped him.

"I figured you knew," Tweek replied, sliding Craig's zipper down slowly. He looked into his eyes, feeling a flush gathering on his cheeks; inebriation making him pleasantly loose and foggy. "Let me be a slut for you, Craig."

Craig's eyes widened.

"Are you serious right now?"

"What do you think?" Tweek said, cheekily. Settling himself between Craig's splayed thighs, he unbuttoned his slacks and reached a hand into his boxer briefs; his small hand wrapping around Craig's stiffening cock. He stroked it languidly, steady pumps up and down, up and down.

"Kyle also told me you let Stan call you daddy," he commented, leaning forward and lapping at the tip of Craig's cock, gathering the pre-cum onto his tongue and swallowing it down; relishing in its salty flavor. He pulled away, a string of saliva stretching between Craig's cock and his lips. He shook his head.

"You're not his daddy, Craig. You're mine. How could you forget that?"

"Oh, baby," Craig breathed, reaching up and removing the captain's hat from Tweek's fluffy hair; he set it aside. He ran his fingers through Tweek's hair for a moment before clenching his fingers in it, gently drawing him forward; Tweek's lips brushing against his throbbing cock head.

"I could never forget that," he sighed, pushing his hips forward when Tweek's mouth settled around his cock again. "I'll always be your daddy, duckling. You know how to take care of me, don't you?"

Tweek tried to answer with a mouthful of cock but he refrained, not wanting to appear impolite. He nodded instead, looking up into Craig's eyes as he suckled him; his pink lips sliding up and down his daddy's shaft; moist, sucking sounds permeating the room.

"Cute little slut," Craig said, tipping his head back and pulling Tweek forward, easing his cock over the blonde's tongue and dangerously close to the back of his throat. He stopped when Tweek gagged lightly, chuckling softly.

"Sorry, hon."

Tweek pulled off, wiping his mouth but not removing the cum completely; smearing it across his lips. He lapped at it like it was delicious whipped cream; his favorite dessert.

"It's okay," he said, dipping forward and licking along the shaft, dragging his tongue upward and flattening it out so he could access more skin. "I want it all, daddy. Gag me, okay?"

"Damn, what the fuck has gotten into you?" Craig laughed, pulling Tweek onto his cock with more force now. "What was in that wine?"

Tweek responded by deep-throating Craig now, taking him all the way into his mouth and letting him slide as far back as he could go. Relaxing his throat muscles, he resisted the need to gag, relishing in the delicious splashes of cum snaking their way into his saliva-filled mouth.

"Jesus, hold up," Craig sucked in a breath suddenly, his hands tightening in Tweek's hair. "I'm gonna cum, baby. I don't want to go yet...this feels too fucking good."

"No, you can't," Tweek agreed, pulling off and standing. "Because you're gonna finish inside of me, aren't you?"

"Oh, am I?" Craig asked, gasping a little as he reached out and draped his hands on Tweek's small hips, drawing him close. He pressed his face against Tweek's warm stomach, leaving little kisses that made Tweek sigh softly; his head lolling on his shoulder.

"God, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he murmured, kissing along Tweek's tummy, strong fingers gripping flushed skin. "Can you ever forgive me?"

"That depends," Tweek purred, not feeling like himself and loving it. He wanted to feel powerful even though he secretly loved when Craig took control; possessing him completely. He loved to be fucked until he ached...maybe he should've mentioned that to his husband in the past? He'd always just assumed Craig knew this, but maybe he hadn't been forward enough.

Easing out of Craig's grip, Tweek turned away and settled his hands on his backside, spreading himself. Ignoring the growing hot flush in his cheeks, he presented himself to his husband.

"Remember when we fucked on that international flight a couple years ago? We joined the Mile High Club together."

He almost shivered when he felt warm fingertips drifting over his entrance, making him draw in a tight breath; his eyes shutting against the sensation.

"Yeah, I remember," Craig said, his voice soft. "We didn't have any lube so I had to use something else."

Tweek was about to answer when he felt a beautiful wetness settle over his opening, and he knew that Craig's expert tongue was working him over. Leaning forward, he pressed a hand against his mouth as drool crested his lips, sinking into the feeling of being prepared by his husband's mouth. After a moment, a big hand was settling over his stiff little cock and stroking him slowly.

"God, you taste good," Craig said, licking and stroking Tweek at the same time; almost turning him into a shaking, writhing mess. "You always taste so good, baby."

"Mm, you didn't even take your pants off when we fucked on the plane," Tweek moaned, pushing back against Craig's mouth. "It felt so dirty and fast...that's what I want tonight, okay? Please?"

"Come here," Craig answered, giving him one last swipe with his wet tongue before turning him; strong hands clutching at his hips and guiding him. Tweek straddled his husband's lap, raised up on his knees as he hovered over Craig's huge cock.

"You ready, duckling?" Craig asked, grinning a little. His lips looked plump and pink and shiny; Tweek's flavor no doubt coating his mouth. Tweek leaned forward to kiss him as he sunk onto Craig's cock, opening his mouth in little gasps as he took him in, inch by beautiful inch.

"Daddy," he breathed, adoring the feeling of being so full as Craig guided him gently, not stopping until he was fully seated. Laying his head against Craig's shoulder, he wrapped his arms around his husband's neck. For a moment, he couldn't speak, just wanting to succumb to the sensation of being so open; wanting to feel used but needed too; adored. Pushing himself onto his knees, Tweek began bobbing up and down on Craig's cock, adding a little bounce to his movement because he knew his husband liked that; having said in the past that he found it undeniably cute.

"S-slow down," Craig said, holding onto Tweek's waist to steady him. "I'm so close, baby. I want this to last for awhile."

"Me, too," Tweek said, slowing down a tad, reveling in the feeling of a thick cock being dragged out of him; brushing his insides and creating so much delicious friction. The heat was coursing through his body, burning him from the inside: desire, wanting, an almost painful yearning. Along with the lust and love was a furious rage, of course, he hadn't just forgiven his husband so easily, but the love always seemed to eclipse everything else.

"Y-you're mine," Tweek managed to say, pleasure stealing his words along with the wine's hypnotic, lulling pull. A savage possessiveness was driving him as he lifted himself on Craig's cock again, plunging down with new, ravenous need. "You're my daddy, no one else's, Craig. I want to hear you say it."

"Yours, just yours," Craig groaned, finding Tweek's mouth again; delving his tongue inside and tasting him.

God, Tweek loved to taste himself on his husband's lips, lapping at his mouth like a cat licks up sweet cream. There was just something undeniably sexy about tasting his most secret parts on someone's else's skin. Almost feeling feverish, he kissed his husband's mouth until he noticed a change; a shift. Pulling away, he looked into Craig's face but saw that his focus was directed elsewhere. Sluggishly, Tweek turned to glance over his shoulder, smiling slowly when he saw Stan lingering in the doorway.

"Mm, turn me around, I want to talk to Stan face to face," Tweek murmured, giving Craig's mouth one last kiss before shifting to face away from his husband. He delicately lifted himself as he looked into Stan's eyes, allowing Craig's cock to slide out of him until it almost left him completely.

"Craig isn't your daddy, Stan," Tweek announced, delighting in the way Craig's hands tightened on his waist at his words. He also relished the look of surprise and raw amusement on Stan's face as he watched the pair fuck; what a sight they must be! "Do you understand?"

Stan brushed a hand over his face, looking handsome in his own right; dark hair slightly messy and brushed off his forehead. He was clothed in dark jeans and a blue t-shirt, the latter complementing his shaded, wide eyes. Tweek had always been annoyed in the past when people tried to say that Stan and Craig looked alike, having never seen the similarities himself. Craig was like a panther and Stan was more like a loyal hound dog; sleepy eyes and a casual air about him.

"Yeah, I totally understand, Tweek," Stan replied, chewing at his bottom lip when he heard Tweek cry out; Craig having successfully found and hit his sweet spot. "Craig is all yours."

"That's right," Tweek gasped, arching his back as Craig sped up his thrusts, clearly making the decision to take control of the situation. "The only time you get to fuck around with him is when I'm there, too."

"Wait, what?" Craig asked, stopping suddenly. Reaching up, he turned Tweek's head so they were eye to eye. "Duckling, what are you talking about?"

"You heard me," Tweek replied, pulling his face away and grinding himself against Craig's cock; tightening his muscles just so. "If you and Stan are going to fuck around, you have to include me too. Those are my terms."

"Dude, are you drunk?" Stan interjected, peering at him closely. "Because you sound totally drunk right now."

"Stan, we have a lot to talk about," Tweek slurred, cocking an eyebrow at him. "But let's hold off until this situation's been taken care of, okay?"

"I don't understand."

"Just fucking get over here," Tweek sighed, rolling his eyes.

"Baby, what are you -"

"Craig, just focus on fucking me, okay?" Tweek cut him off, smiling a little when he saw Stan reluctantly walk forward. "Unzip your pants."

"W-what?"

"Do it," Tweek commanded, watching with savage pleasure as Stan caught Craig's eye for a moment before shrugging. Slowly, he unbuttoned and unzipped his pants before looking at Tweek again, waiting.

"Good, that's perfect," Tweek purred, reaching out and taking a hold of Stan's t-shirt; drawing him closer. Dragging his hand down his abdomen, he settled his fingers around the bulge in Stan's boxer briefs. Pulling Stan's cock out, he leaned forward and kissed the tip, relishing in Stan's sudden shudder.

"Tweek, Jesus...what are you even doing right now?" Craig said, sounding equal parts mystified but also unbelievably turned on; deep voice dark and husky.

"Stan isn't the only one who can be a slut," Tweek replied, coquettishly; lapping at Stan's cock and comparing his flavor to Craig's. Craig's was superior, hands down, but Stan had a pleasant taste, too; comforting and warm.

"Besides, I just remembered I didn't get you a Valentine's day gift...so this'll have to do," he added, pressing himself down on Craig's lap again; clenching exquisitely. "I hope you like it, daddy."


End file.
